


Forces Not to be Reckoned With

by lsularak



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: College Years, College era, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Im kinda sorry, Kinda canon compliant, Not real, Religious Themes, because im a sucker for those, but not really, comfort is a legend, elektra is a force of nature ok, hurricane elektra, i like the religious themes okay, like heavy religious themes, like straight up, lots of metaphors and stuff, not sure how to tag as usual, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 15:19:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18875830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lsularak/pseuds/lsularak
Summary: Elektra was a force to be reckoned with. She was fire and she was fury, yet, at the same time she was ice and indifference. She swept through lives like a tornado, leaving those she passed breathless and terrified, with the feeling of silk on their skin and the smell of orchids and blood in the air. She was a goddess, and everyone she met was a believer.Elektra swept through Matt's life like a hurricane.





	Forces Not to be Reckoned With

**Author's Note:**

> i have a lot of feelings about matt and elektra okay
> 
> im actually super happy with how this one turned out!!
> 
>  
> 
> as usual constructive criticism is welcome!!

Elektra was a force to be reckoned with. She was fire and she was fury, yet, at the same time she was ice and indifference. She swept through lives like a tornado, leaving those she passed breathless and terrified, with the feeling of silk on their skin and the smell of orchids and blood in the air. She was a goddess, and everyone she met was a believer. 

_Matt_ certainly believed in her. He had denounced God because she was _real_ holiness, a holiness he could touch and feel and _worship_ , and a holiness that _rewarded_ him when she saw and felt his devotion. She was his goddess. She was his everything and more, and he would have died for her, she had but to ask. 

_Ask, and you shall receive_ , she had said to him once, a joke, a smile he could sense playing across her lips as he stood before her, throat dry. But he asked. He asked and asked and _begged_ , and he did receive. She gave him all that he wanted and more, more, more for her most devoted parishioner, a man who saw her and cried out _goddess_. Who was she to deny him the holiness he so desperately craved?

She was his goddess, that was who she was, but she would not deny him. For a goddess needed a god to wed, and he was as holy as she. He couldn’t grasp that, kneeling before her like a man denied water, because he still thought he wasn’t _worthy_ ; because no one was worthy to touch his goddess, not even himself. But when she asked him, he gave, because who was he to deny her the worship she so craved? 

He was no one, that was who, a mere drop in the ocean of those who would give their lives for her, a single face in the crowd of a concert. He could not deny her, and he did not want to. He found true holiness, and he wanted to hold onto it like a starving wolf would hold onto a steak; but he wouldn’t dare, wouldn’t _dare_ to do that to her. He could only hold her with reverence, only touch her with every ounce of devotion for her in his being. 

His goddess, his queen, a woman who could bring the world to its knees with a word; and she loved him _back_. She paid him back his every praise in kind, matched him touch for touch as eagerly as he gave them (he couldn’t figure out why, he could never find out why, she had to serve no one, she owed him nothing, but she gave and gave and gave and she didn’t seem to think she ever gave him _enough_ when she really gave him _too much_ , but he couldn’t tell her that, he couldn’t tell his goddess that he didn’t deserve it, that he was too broken to deserve to be loved by her, that he was too _dirty_ to be touched by her, because he could never tell her she was wrong, because she never _was_ ).

He loved her. She loved him back. That should have been enough.

It wasn’t.

Not for lack of trying, no, never for lack of trying, but because they couldn’t perceive themselves right.

Matthew would check himself over, and only catch the Devil clawing at his chest, the rage boiling his blood; never would he notice that he would break his own body for the sake of others. Never would he notice the way people lit up at his presence, because no one could love the Devil; but in Elektra, he saw a goddess

Elektra, she would look at herself and only see a warrior. A fighter. A killer. That was all she saw, all she _could_ be, because she was raised into that life. She never saw the woman who fell in love on accident, never saw that she too brought light to the lives of those who knew her; but in Matthew, she saw a god, one she could stand by if he would allow it. One she _wanted_ to stand by; if only he would realize what he was.

They seemed destined to stay together, a man and a woman that saw nothing in themselves but that saw _everything_ in each other. They should have been together, should have _stayed_ together, but they ended up splintering apart because of some choices they should never have been in the position to make.

One day, his goddess asked too much. 

One day, Matthew denied her.

That was all it took.

Matthew – a man who could only think fondly of his goddess, who could only ever love her, could hold no resentment toward her – was left bloody, and alone; and Elektra – a woman who had always seen him as an equal, who had fallen in love with him by accident, disappointed that his devotion had one boundary, disappointed that he would not cross it – had left him that way.

Bloody, alone, and afraid; that was the state in which Matt was left to find his way home. While usually that would be no problem, he almost couldn’t do it. It was like withdrawal, after so long spent by the side of his goddess, being left without her so suddenly was a shock to his systems, leaving him hurt and trembling. But he did make it, he made it back. He didn’t remember how.

Not that it was important.

Nothing was important anymore, really. Without a goddess to guide his movements, to lead him through his life, what point was there? Religion had always been there for Matt, but after denouncing the only one he had known in favor of the new, and after having been _abandoned_ by his new goddess, what was there? Nothingness, not a single thing remained. Without a guiding light, Matt remained in his bed. His horrible, dorm room bed, with sheets so scratchy he was sure his skin had been sanded off. It was pitiful, he _knew_ that, but he just… couldn’t. 

There was no _reason_ to, without Elektra, Matt was just _Matt_ ; poor, blind, orphaned, Catholic Matt. With her, he was _Matthew_ , the man with the Devil in him, who could bring down an army in minutes, who could leap off of rooftops and land perfectly, not even earning so much as a scrape. With her he was a king of the world; but alone, he was no more than a servant with dreams of grandeur. 

Elektra; goddess, queen, force of nature – had torn through Matt’s life like a hurricane. She left him aching with emptiness and wishing she would come back, but no such thing would happen; God would grant no such mercies to the Devil who had denounced him. 

So, Matthew was left bloody, and alone. 

It was not the first time.

It would not be the last.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Retaining Faith](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18905446) by [lsularak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lsularak/pseuds/lsularak)




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